Like a Good Angel Should
by MewWitch
Summary: Early on in his Immortal life, Jack Frost was left to wander. Searching for answers and a reason; looking to find a purpose. By chance one day, he stumbles upon one.


**Like a Good Angel Should**

**By MewWitch**

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, lyrics, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The plot is the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended, nor should any be inferred. No profit is being made.**

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Jack Frost once thought he might be an Angel.

_~*~RotGRotGRotGRotGRotGRotG~*~_

He had been passing through a town, early on in his life as Winter when he'd come across a majority of the people gathering into a single building. Curious as he was at that point in his existence he had followed. Thankfully there had been a small hole in the roof, just enough for him to listen.

And oh, the things he heard!

There was a great man, whom all the others revered, and when that man spoke, all other were silent. Even the wind seemed to settle at his voice. The man spoke of great and wondrous thing, of a Lord above who watched over all and guided them. Who saw all from up upon the heavens. Who knew all, for He had created all. The speaking man even told of a time the Lord appeared upon the earth in the form of a great burning bush!

And Jack, who had been confused and lost all this time, was enraptured.

But then, all too briefly, the man stopped.

And the people left.

And while he had been sitting on that rooftop for several hours, for Jack, who had been waiting all this time for answers, it hadn't been enough.

But then he heard the man wish someone a good day, and good health until the next time.

Next Time.

That Sunday a light, joy filled snow fell on those walking home from church.

_~*~RotGRotGRotGRotGRotGRotG~*~_

The Next Time, which turned out to be exactly seven days later, the speaking man with the reverberating voice spoke not of the Lord above, but of his servants that he had sent down to earth. Beings who worked to guide mankind and Shepard them towards their purpose. Who were all around them, constantly watching over them all without ever being seen. They were a part of nature itself, working thought the wind and the rain. The sunlight and the stars.

And Jack was left hanging on his every word.

_~*~RotGRotGRotGRotGRotGRotG~*~_

That night Jack Frost came to a conclusion. The Speaking Man had told him all he needed to know to understand his previously unanswered questions.

Jack had come out of the ice because that was where he had been created. _(The Lord makes Angels, only to place them on earth)_

He spoke to Jack through the Moon. _(The Heavens above)_

He knew Jack's name when no one else, not even Jack did. _(The Lord knows all)_

He had been given the tool of the shepherds. _(Angels are the Shepherds of the Lord)_

No one could see him. _(Angels were hidden from the humans they were meant to watch over)_

Jack flew on the winds. _(Angels were not bound to the earth)_

Jack sometimes glowed under the moonlight. _(Angels held the grace of heaven in them)_

An Angel. He must be an Angel he decided. Not a ghost or an earthbound spirit like he'd previously believed.

An Angel.

And if he watched over man, like a good Angel should, one might eventually notice his presence.

_~*~RotGRotGRotGRotGRotGRotG~*~_

But unfortunately he had only been looking after the humans villagers for a short time when his newfound purpose was extinguished.

It had only been five Next Times since he'd first found the speaking man-the Preacher-when a new topic was introduced to the weekly sermons.

Angel Jack had a bad feeling from the moment he laid eyes on the church house. For the speaking man, who was normally soft-voiced and calm in his deliverance, was unnaturally loud. Angel Jack had been able to hear him on the wind before he'd even landed on the rooftop.

The Preacher harshly made it know of those who worked against the Lord. Horrible creatures that would pretend to be helpful all in order to trick the good honest folk out of believing. Sons of perdition. Tempters of sinfullness. Defilers and most unclean. Whose mere presence could send chills to ones very soul.

They who would pretend to be angels so as to hide their true Wickedness.

And for the first time since he'd started listening to the Preacher, Jack wished he hadn't heard anything at all. He fled long before the sermons were over, and didn't stop until he'd an ocean between him and those horrible words.

The horrible truth.

_~*~RotGRotGRotGRotGRotGRotG~*~_

It was a long time before he went back to that particular village. Long enough for the Preacher, the words, even the church to have disappeared into nothing more than memory.

It was even longer until he was able to accept that he had been wrong about himself both times.

_~*~RotGRotGRotGRotGRotGRotG~*~_

Jack Frost once feared he was a Demon

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**A.N.**

**So this is kinda on the opposite end of the belief spectrum from my last story ****Ignorance is Bliss****, which dealt with the possibility of Jack's Non-belief. This, however, focuses on the idea of Jack finding something to believe in, and drawing all the wrong conclusions as a result.**

**In other words-I shouldn't be allowed to watch movies like ****_Constantine _****and****_ Dogma _****while I'm going through writers block.**

**P.S. If anyone has any suggestions for the cover image for this, please, Let me know!**


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